


Fight and Flight

by felixs_thigh_highs



Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Golden Deer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Minor My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixs_thigh_highs/pseuds/felixs_thigh_highs
Summary: Felix still wasn’t sure just exactly how he was going to tell Sylvain that he was leaving, or if he even would. Part of him wanted to disappear without a word or a goodbye. It would be easier for Felix, but he knew that it would probably tear Sylvain apart and that he would never stop searching for him. Just as he had on this road headed to Derdriu, anytime Felix tried to leave without him, Sylvain would just follow after, determined to stay by his side. But this time, he needed Sylvain to let him go....After the Battle of Derdriu several months after the end of the war, Felix and Sylvain share a final night together.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655503
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Fight and Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first scene I started after Margrave and Mercenary, and I'm finally happy with it. There's an adorable fanart by Jusbene that I knew I had to work into one of my stories. Enjoy!
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/jusbene/art/What-If-We-Kissed-In-the-Training-Grounds-814775136

_ To his grace, Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius _

_ Dear Felix, _

_ I know that you appreciate brevity, so I will get right to the point of this letter: I need your help in Derdriu. My spy network throughout the former Leicester territory has been reporting strange activity, with sightings of mysterious mages in black beaked masks and soldiers wearing red armor. These sightings have been growing steadily closer to Derdriu, and I am concerned that an attack on our fledgling united kingdom is imminent. _

_ I have sent similar letters to all my former students, asking for their assistance in this our hour of need. I need my strongest and most trustworthy allies to be by my side, as I have had no word from Claude since he returned to Almyra to help guide our two countries toward peace. _

_ If you accept my request for aid, please come with all haste. I require no formal letter, just your presence as soon as you are able to make the journey. I will put you up in the former Riegan manor, so do not worry about your lodgings. Just bring your best weapons and your fighting spirit. _

_ Yours, _

_ Byleth _

Felix barely finished reading the letter before he was on his feet and racing toward his quarters. In his haste to pack and leave, he almost knocked over his uncle, who was on his way to see what the letter that had been delivered that morning had been about.

“Sorry, uncle,” he grunted, stepping around the man and resuming his harried pace.

“Felix, what--?” he started, but Felix was already out of earshot. Sighing heavily, he followed the young man to his quarters to figure out what was going on, making a brief stop on his way.

By the time he arrived, Felix already had a large rucksack filled with traveling clothes and various bits of fighting gear. He saw the letter thrown on the duke’s bed, so rather than trying to get a straight answer from his nephew, he stepped forward and retrieved the letter to read it for himself.

“I suppose you intend to go,” Lord Fraldarius asked drily after he finished reading, placing the letter back on the bed.

Felix buckled his double sword belt to his waist, avoiding his uncle’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Is this not something you feel you should discuss with me before just up and leaving your territory? You are the duke, after all, and it falls to you to care for these people, or at least to make arrangements to ensure that they are cared for.” His tone was stern but not angry, resigned to how he was sure this conversation would end.

Felix finally stopped putting on his traveling gear and looked at his uncle, a bit chagrined but mostly determined.

“I have to go,” he said simply, squaring his shoulders. “I can’t stay here and keep pretending that I’m happy with this life. I’m not. I’m not a politician. I’m a warrior, and so I need to fight.”

His uncle’s expression softened as he beheld the young man before him. He would never say it out loud, but Felix looked so much like both his father and his brother in that moment, dark Fraldarius hair worn long, fierce determination shining in his eyes, ready to fight for what he wanted out of life.

“I know you have to go, Felix.” He stepped forward and placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I’ve known for a while. Ever since you returned from the war, you’ve been agitated, restless, like a caged animal. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I kept quiet. I thought that maybe with time, you would eventually settle into your new role. I hoped by lending my aid in running Fraldarius, I could take some of this burden off of you.” He smiled fondly. “And I’m happy to do it now, to care for our people in your absence while you fulfill your other duty to our new ruler.”

Felix relaxed under his uncle’s hand at his words, relieved that this conversation didn’t take an unfortunate turn. “Thank you, uncle.”

“You’re welcome, my boy.” Lord Fraldarius patted his shoulder affectionately and stepped back. “But I have to ask, when do you think this skirmish will be over?” His real question remained unvoiced: “When will you return to Fraldarius and resume your role as duke?”

Tensing again, Felix lowered his eyes. “I don’t intend to come back when it’s over.” His voice was quiet, as if anticipating a rebuke.

No rebuke came. Instead, his uncle sighed. “It pains me to admit, but I thought you might say that. So, I suppose you had better take these.”

Lord Fraldarius stepped outside into the hallway and returned with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. When he handed them to Felix, they both began to glow, channeling the power of his Major Crest of Fraldarius.

Felix looked askance at his uncle. “Are you sure I should take these? They’ve always been used by the duke of Fraldarius. And with me gone, that will be you.”

Lord Fraldarius shook his head. “No, you bear the Crest, so they should go with you. Sure, I can use them, but not as effectively as you can. They will serve you well out there, in whatever endeavors you undertake.”

After a few more moments of consideration, Felix agreed. He strapped Aegis to his back and slipped the Sword of Moralta into his sword belt. Then he clasped his uncle’s hand.

“Thank you, uncle, for everything. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with since Glenn, and even more so after the war, but you never gave up on me. Maybe one day I’ll have the confidence in myself that you’ve always had in me.”

Lord Fraldarius put his other hand on top of Felix’s and squeezed. “Go in peace. Don’t worry about us here. I hope you find what you’re looking for out there.”

After saying his goodbyes to his uncle, Felix went out to the stable to outfit his favorite horse, a cream-colored Gautier mare that had been a gift from Sylvain for his 23rd birthday. Though riding a horse wasn’t his preferred mode of transportation, Felix knew he had to make haste, not only for Byleth’s sake, but for his own. The sooner he could start cutting down enemies again, the better.

He was only a few hours into his journey east, when he heard galloping behind him. His hand instinctively reached for the sword at his side, and he prepared himself for battle. He was perversely excited at the prospect, to feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins and his sword slicing through flesh. When he turned to size up his opponent, he saw a redheaded man wearing gray armor riding a jet black horse, a glowing lance strapped to his back. 

Sylvain.

Felix’s sigh was one of both relief and disappointment. He slowed his pace slightly to allow the knight to catch up to him.

“I stopped by the manor first, but your uncle said you’d already left,” Sylvain said when he came up beside Felix. “You could have waited for me.”

Felix didn’t need to look over to know that Sylvain was pouting. He scoffed. “How should I have known that you intended to go?"

“Come on, like I’d leave the professor high and dry like that, especially since there’s been no word from Claude yet. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have the person you love be gone like that for months without a single letter or anything.”

Felix stared steadfastly ahead. He still wasn’t sure just exactly how he was going to tell Sylvain that he was leaving, or if he even would. Part of him wanted to disappear without a word or a goodbye. It would be easier for Felix, but he knew that it would probably tear Sylvain apart and that he would never stop searching for him. Just as he had on this road headed to Derdriu, anytime Felix tried to leave without him, Sylvain would just follow after, determined to stay by his side. But this time, he needed Sylvain to let him go.

...

Felix and Sylvain were stationed in the port south of Derdriu, the last line of defense before the enemy reached the city. The civilians had been evacuated to ships out on the sea, but they still didn’t want the enemy to force them to fight in the streets and cause destruction to the buildings and the livelihoods of the citizenry. They were joined by some of their Golden Deer comrades, Lorenz, Hilda, and Marianne. Their respective territories were nearby, so they had been in the capital for some time, helping to bolster defenses, evacuate non-combatants, and plan for a siege.

It was a bitter battle. The enemy had obviously been using the last three months of peace to gather their forces and plan their assault on the capital. Though Byleth had known this attack was coming, the army of the new kingdom was outmatched in numbers and weapons, not having yet recovered from the previous five years of war. 

Even with Byleth’s former students, heroes of the war against the Empire, in the fray, they were losing ground. Lorenz’s horse was impaled by a spear, so he was shooting spells from the ground now, Thyrsus glowing on his back, piercing those who came too close with his lance. Hilda was swinging Freikugel and taking out swathes of enemies, but more kept coming. Her s tamina was waning. Marianne was doing her best to keep everyone on their feet, but her face was growing paler with each pulse of Heal. Sylvain was still on horseback, Lance of Ruin living up to its name, and Felix was covering his flank with Aegis and the Sword of Moralta. But even they were losing strength and hope. The enemy seemed endless, and they were so tired from the war that they had thought had ended with Nemesis’ demise.

Then, a battle cry rang out from the sky to the east, causing all on the ground to raise their heads to find the source, aggressor and defender alike. A brilliant white wyvern, topped by a dark-haired rider in gold, was leading a host of fliers toward them. Not far behind, on the plains east of the port, an army of cavalry and infantry was advancing. The green standards they carried bore a golden steed reared up on its hind legs, its rider shooting an arrow into the sun. The colors of Almyra. Claude had come to save them.

The moral boost was instantaneously felt throughout the new kingdom army, and they began fighting with renewed vigor. The Almyran reinforcements made quick work of cutting through the enemy, the wyverns raining arrows down from the heavens, clearing the way for the ground forces to cover the front lines and give the new kingdom army a respite. Before long, the last vestige of red armor was felled; the Imperial army was defeated.

...

The impromptu celebration lasted well into the night. And why not? Not only was the city saved, but Claude was back, and as king of Almyra no less.The core of the festivities was in the beautiful Derdriu city square, which was large and open and ringed by many restaurants and taverns. Claude had told everyone to enjoy themselves, to eat and drink their fill. 

“Byleth’s picking up the tab tonight!” he crowed, earning a good-natured elbow in the ribs from the former professor and a round of laughter from the soldiers and those citizens who had already made their way back into the city. Many had chosen to stay the night in the ships that had been their sanctuary during the invasion and return to their homes in the morning.

Always so stoic in most other circumstances, Byleth couldn’t keep the smile from her face when Claude announced their engagement. They were never more than an arm's reach away from each other, holding hands or wrapping an arm around the other’s waist whenever possible, as if they each needed the other to breathe.

Though he was happy for them, Felix could barely stand to see the love emanating from their faces when they looked at each other. There was only one person who had ever made him feel the way they felt, and he deserved so much better than the mess that Felix had become after Dimitri’s untimely death. Felix had made up his mind what he had to do; finding the strength to do so was another matter.

Felix stayed in the city square long enough to be polite, and to share one round of drinks with his comrades. Then, deciding he needed some quiet to figure out how he was going to break the news to Sylvain, he made an inconspicuous exit. Or so he thought.

“Hey, Felix, wait up!”

He didn’t need to turn around to know who was calling after him. He would be able to pick out that voice in a sea of a thousand people, but hearing it now didn’t give him the sense of peace it usually did. He wanted to run from it, run from the confrontation he knew was looming on the horizon. But he didn’t. Instead, he did what he always did when pursued by the redhead: he stopped and allowed him to reach his side before continuing on his way. 

“Where ya going? Don’t you want to have some more celebratory drinks? Byleth’s buying after all. And this Derdriu cuisine is a spice-lover’s dream!”

“I’ve had enough food and merriment. I just need some fresh air, and quiet.” He said the last word pointedly, but if Sylvain got that point, he ignored it.

“I could use some fresh air too.”

They walked north toward the former Riegan manor, where Byleth had offered them quarters. As they left behind the raucous sounds of revelers, a comfortable quiet descended, punctuated only by the jingling of Sylvain’s spurs and the clanking of his armor. The guards at the gate of the manor recognized them and waved them inside with large smiles. 

The manor was empty; even the servants were at the Derdriu city square celebrating. No one would be in the manor for many hours yet, so they could have some peace after the day spent fighting. Once they reached the north-facing terrace on the second story of the guest wing, the pair leaned their elbows on the railing and looked out over the dark sea, where the stars’ twinkling reflections danced upon the rippling surface of the water. The air was crisp and clean, and Felix inhaled it deeply, hoping it would clear his mind enough to get through the next few hours, before the sun rose, before he started his life as a mercenary, before he left Sylvain.

Sylvain removed his right gauntlet and reached over, taking Felix’s left hand.

“So, this war is finally over,” he said, leaning into Felix’s shoulder and resting his head on top of the younger man’s.

Felix closed his eyes, savoring Sylvain’s warmth against his side. “It would seem so.”

“Time to start figuring out what we want to do with the rest of our lives.” He squeezed Felix’s hand and rubbed his thumb over the younger man’s gloved knuckles, lingering over the third finger.

“Mm-hmm,” was all Felix could say in response. His stomach was filled with both butterflies and knots. He could guess what Sylvain wanted, and part of him wanted it too. His heart was telling him that now he and Sylvain were finally free to be happy together, settle down and rebuild their lives as they saw fit. Sticking together until they died together, like they had promised when they were children. But the rest of Felix knew that he could never really be satisfied with that life, not after what had happened during the war. Not after he had failed to save Dimitri from himself. That was his burden to bear, and he had to atone for that. He couldn’t play house with Sylvain and pretend that he didn’t hate himself for letting down his king and best friend. He couldn’t drag Sylvain down like that. He had to leave.

But he and Sylvain still had tonight.

He turned toward the taller man and wrapped his arms around his neck, lifting himself up onto his tiptoes.

“Lean down. I can’t fucking reach you.”

Sylvain chuckled, dropping his other gauntlet and placing his hands on the smaller man’s slender hips. Then he lowered his face, allowing Felix’s lips to meet his own. It was a quick kiss, but Felix remained on his tiptoes, his arms around Sylvain, and looked into his eyes, searching for something, but what, he didn’t quite know.

Sensing his unease, Sylvain furrowed his eyebrows. “Something wrong, Fe?”

At the sound of his nickname, which only Sylvain was allowed to use and only when they were alone, Felix lowered his eyes, put his heels back on the ground, and wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s torso, laying his head on the cool armor of his breastplate.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Sylvain purred, laying his head on top of Felix’s and drawing him close. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Felix’s eyes started to burn, tears threatening to fall, but he was determined that Sylvain would not see him cry tonight. Instead, he inhaled deeply again, drawing strength from the salty sea air.

“I’m not going back to Fraldarius.” He spoke quickly so he could say everything he needed to without Sylvain interjecting. “When I leave here, I’m going to be a mercenary. On my own. I can’t go back and pretend that everything is how it used to be, because it isn’t.  _ I’m _ not who I used to be. I don’t know exactly what you had in mind for us when we got back, but we can’t be together. Not now. Not after all that’s happened.” A single tear fell. “I’m sorry.”

Sylvain let out a heavy, ragged sigh at this information but he did not speak. Felix was sure he’d react badly, with anger or confusion or pleading for him to stay. And if Sylvain begged him not to go, he would be hard-pressed to leave. Sylvain was the only one who would be able to change his mind about leaving, and Felix was afraid that if he managed to talk him out of it, their relationship would eventually dissolve anyway. Felix would become resentful, a rift would grow between them, and there would be no coming back from that. At least this way, there was a chance they could end things amicably. 

The silence dragged on until finally, Sylvain gave him a gentle squeeze.

“All right,” Sylvain murmured.

Felix froze, sure he had heard wrong. “All right?”

Sylvain pulled back to look at him, smiling gently. “If that’s what you need, Fe, then all right. You’re right, things are different now. As much as I want things between us to return to how they were, I know they can’t. Maybe someday. But I do have one question.”

“Which is?”

Sylvain lowered his forehead to Felix’s, caramel eyes burning into copper. “Can I have you tonight?” he asked huskily.

This kiss was not quick and chaste, but sloppy and desperate. Felix took off his leather gloves, throwing them over his shoulder onto the terrace floor, and ran his hands through his lover’s fiery hair. Sylvain easily lifted Felix up to better reach his mouth, supporting him under his thighs with hands strengthened by years of lance training. When Felix wrapped his legs around the larger man’s waist, Sylvain twirled around to push Felix up against the stone wall, gaining himself some leverage to deepen the kiss. This also allowed him to remove his hands from Felix’s thighs and start working at the laces on his teal pants.

Felix pushed at the knight’s armored chest and pulled his head back as much as the stone wall would allow him, breaking the kiss.

“Syl…” he breathed against Sylvain’s lips. “Not here.”

“Good call,” Sylvain replied, chuckling softly. “My room’s close, and I came prepared.” He winked.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Insatiable.”

“When it comes to you, absolutely.”

Felix groaned upon seeing the fire in Sylvain’s eyes and allowed himself to be carried away from the terrace, down the hallway, and to Sylvain’s room, which was on the farthest end of the guest wing, away from where Byleth had put everyone else staying in the manor. Whether this was good fortune or good planning on Byleth’s part, Sylvain didn’t care; he was just grateful.

Once inside the room, practiced hands made quick work of their battle attire. Sylvain removed the swordsman’s sword belt, spaulder, and hooded cloak, while Felix unbuckled the knight’s hip cape and armor. By the time they were both down to undershirts and trousers, desperation had begun to permeate the air. Sylvain reached behind Felix’s head to remove his hair tie, allowing his long navy hair to cascade over his shoulders. Then he tangled his hand in the hair at the back of Felix’s head, pulling him in for a fervent kiss.

The heat between them rose, and when they pulled back for air, Felix quickly removed both of their undershirts. Then he pulled Sylvain backward toward the bed by the waistband of his red shorts. They fell onto the soft mattress and Sylvain straddled the smaller man, who lay on his back, dark hair splayed out on the sheets.

“Goddess, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, gazing down at the man beneath him. This man had been by his side for decades, through the good and the bad. He had suffered through all the one-night stands with nameless, faceless girls. He had consoled him when they had had to kill Miklan. He had been there through countless battles, cutting down enemies, protecting his flank, healing him even though his white magic was rudimentary at best. They had mourned Dimitri’s death together, as well as those of all their other fallen comrades. This man was his lover, but more than that, he was his best friend, his partner, the one person who made him want to be a better man. And he was leaving in the morning.

Despite himself, a single tear fell from Sylvain’s eye, running down his cheek and landing on Felix’s chest. Felix reached up and traced the trail the tear had left, his eyes unreadable. Then his hand was behind Sylvain’s neck, pulling him down for a fierce kiss.

Unwilling to break the kiss, Sylvain reached down awkwardly and pulled his legs up one at a time to remove his sabatons and pull his black protective leggings, red shorts, and undergarments over his feet. Once in the nude, Sylvain shifted his kisses over to his lover’s neck and started making his way down while undoing Felix’s teal pants and blue thigh-highs. The kisses trailed down the younger man’s bare chest, stomach, hips, thighs, and shins while Sylvain pushed the clothing further down until they joined Sylvain’s on the floor. Then he kissed his way back up the other leg, drawing his hands along the sides of Felix’s lithe body as he did.

Felix shuddered under the larger man’s gentle hands, and for a moment, he doubted himself. With the press on Sylvain’s warm body on his, it was easy to imagine building a life together. He knew that Sylvain adored him, and of course, the feeling was mutual. But would that be enough to see them through the next few years, when the ghosts of the past would finally come back to haunt Felix, tormenting him with questions of why he hadn’t been strong enough to save them, how he could have missed the signs of the prince’s downward spiral that had ultimately taken his mind and his life. Just the thought of Dimitri’s haunted face at Gronder Field was enough to steel Felix. He didn’t deserve to live happily ever after when Dimitri had died the way he had, crazed and alone, at the end of some nameless soldiers' lances.

“You okay, Fe?” Sylvain’s concerned voice brought him back to the now, and he cursed himself for losing a few precious moments with his lover because of self-doubt. Pushing everything else from his mind but Sylvain, he nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“I just want to make sure this is what you want.” Sylvain’s implication was clear.  _ I want to make sure you still want to be with me tonight. I want to make sure you still want to leave me tomorrow. _

“I want this.” Felix replied, answering both questions at once. “I need this.”

“Okay,” Sylvain breathed before silencing them both with a crushing kiss.

…

After Felix was gone, Sylvain went to the pile of clothes on the floor and picked up his red shorts, relieved when he felt the little lump still safe inside the pocket. Sighing, he reached in and pulled out a small golden band. It was simple, with no embellishments or jewels, perfect for a man who had no use for showy trinkets. Sylvain grasped it tightly in his hand and closed his eyes.

Maybe someday...

**Author's Note:**

> I've got three fics closely related to this one in the works, most of them angsty. I'm waiting for more fluff inspiration to hit me, because we could all use some levity right now!


End file.
